Opera Ghost
by Quicksilver the Archangel
Summary: My one and only POTO fanfic. I wrote it for school... I hope someone likes it...


Opera Ghost  
  
A broad figure hurried across the wet, gleaming streets of Paris. His long trench coat flapped behind him in haste. Madness, madness. He stopped suddenly in one of the few dim portals of light at a corner and pulled out a folded and somewhat crumpled piece of paper. His dark brown eyes scanned the words, and he scratched his head, brushing his sandy-colored hair out of place.  
  
My dear Monsieur Garnier  
  
I wish to request that you stay out of business that does not concern you. You have no idea who you are meddling with. If you did, I would not have had to go to the trouble of writing this letter. I fully understand the criteria and obligations that you feel you must carry out. However, I am warning you that, in this particular situation, no good will come of following your duties. I admire your dedication and would sincerely hate to deprive the world of such a man as yourself.  
  
Your Obedient Servant, O.G.  
  
All written in red ink. Blood for all he knew. The letter had come upon him most strangely, only a few hours before.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
"Monsieur! Monsieur Garnier!" Charles Garnier turned abruptly and saw a young boy fighting his way through the crowd towards him. "Please, monsieur!" the boy said, out of breath. "A message from Monsieur Reyer. It's very urgent!" He handed the folded note to Garnier and quickly stepped back, looking very important and pleased with himself. Garnier gave an exasperated sigh at Reyer's outrageous superstitions. This was not the first time he had received an "urgent" message. He quickly unfolded the paper and read his friend's familiar, unruly handwriting, expecting nothing more sinister than a sudden, unexpected, supernatural gathering of crows on the steps of the opera house. As Garnier read the contents of the letter, his eyes grew wide and his heart beat a bit faster. Impossible. I gave up on these kinds of cases a long time ago. His brain raced. Garnier gave another sigh, this time of reconciliation. "Go back to the opera house," he told the messenger, "and tell Reyer I will come within the hour." The boy swelled with pride, gave a curt nod and disappeared around the corner.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
"I tell you, this is serious!" Reyer thundered. "I am the manager of this opera and responsible for the performances! How am I going to explain to all of these people that there will be no show because our prima donna has vanished?" The tiny ball of energy stormed across his office, reminding Garnier of a lightening bolt that could not decide where to strike. "Think of the publicity! We'll be ruined! This has happened before, oh yes." He fixed his piercing gaze on Garnier. "You remember." "Yes," murmured Garnier, staring at the Persian rug in the center of the office. "I remember the legend of the Phantom." "Legend?" cried Reyer. "Legend? A young promising singer disappeared! Two others were murdered! You call this legend? You once believed in this, as I do now. Back then you would have done anything to get your hands on such a mystery!" "Yes," Garnier said coldly, "and look where these ridiculous enigmas have led me. I have lost the respect of all but a few of my colleagues, been the laughing stock at numerous cases, and lost the one person I truly cared for." His dark gaze returned to rest on Reyer. "I will admit that this situation is highly unusual and hard to resist investigating. The evidence all seemingly points one way." Garnier's eyes unfocused and his right brow shot up, an idiosyncrasy he had developed early in his life. Reyer scrutinized his friend's face hopefully, knowing what the eyebrow meant. "Well," he said softly, interrupting Garnier's thoughts, "if you do not have anything, then you have nothing to lose." Garnier inwardly cursed Reyer for playing upon his weakness. He knew Reyer was right; he had nothing to lose. And he felt a thrill inside him that had been long absent from his life. Garnier looked at Reyer, a thin smile appearing on his face. "I'll need to speak to the understudy, and the choir girls." Reyer grinned widely, slapping the taller detective heartily on the shoulder. "Whatever you want my friend, whatever you want!"  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Garnier walked towards the stage, listening with only half an ear to the rehearsal going on around him as he searched for Reyer. His friend had told him that this would be the best time to meet with the understudy of Madame De'Carle. "No! No! No! Figaro would never profess his love so. so coldly! You must feel Figaro. you must BECOME Figaro!" "Yes, I know. Perhaps if we run the lines one more time?" "Your dancing is fine, Katrina, but you are having a little trouble keeping in step with the others. No, do not fret, we have plenty of time to work on it before the performance, if you are willing to stay a little later each day." "Charles, Charles! Over here Charles!" Reyer's shout rose above the rest of the noise, and Garnier glanced to see his friend gesturing to him. "Charles. this is Mademoiselle Chantene, our understudy." "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir," The singer smiled, brushing her auburn hair behind her ears. "Has Reyer told you why I am here?" Seeing Chantene's puzzlement, Garnier went on to explain. "I am here to investigate the disappearance of Madame Daniella." "You are a policeman then?" Chantene asked, her blue eyes widening at the thought of something bad happening to the prima donna. Garnier shook his head. "I am a private investigator, but I am curious as to why the police have not shown up?" Reyer threw his arms up in disgust, "These policemen, Charles, they have no respect for me. I go to them and say my prima donna has disappeared, and they tell me that she is probably relaxing somewhere with her latest beau. If she is missing for more than a week, then they will investigate and not before!" "Monsieur Reyer," the music director called, "we are having a small problem with this third bar. Will you come assist us?" "I am always so busy! Mademoiselle Chantene, please answer any of Charles' questions. I bid you both a good day." With a quick bow, he was gone. "Did you know Madame Daniella well, Miss Chantene?" Garnier asked pulling out the notebook he used to jot down information. "I did indeed Monsieur, we went to the same singing academy. We have always been best of friends. When she became the prima donna, I was thrilled for her! She insisted that I try out for all the operas she was going to be in, saying that there was no one she trusted more to be her understudy." "Were you worried when she turned up missing?" Chantene shook her head. "It was often her custom to simply disappear for a few hours, even so long as an entire day, to do private practice at her home. I became worried when she broke a lunch date with me, and that is when I went to Monsieur Reyer." Garnier perked up at this information, "Then. you must have been the last person to speak with her, to arrange this lunch date?" Chantene nodded, "Yes, monsieur, and she seemed anxious to go with me. That is why I think it is strange for her to leave without telling me." "Mademoiselle Chantene? We need you to rehearse the scene with the Countess." Chantene glanced at Garnier, who nodded. "Thank you for your time, Mademoiselle, and good luck on your performance." "You will find my friend, will you not?" Chantene asked, worry appearing in her eyes. "I will do my very best," Garnier assured her. Chantene nodded, leaving to rehearse.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
How did I ever allow Reyer to talk me into this? Garnier thought to himself, hurrying through the Paris streets. He sighed with relief when he saw his familiar apartments, walking in quickly to escape the rain. Garnier lived alone now, his wife having died three years ago. Garnier lit a candle, staring at the painted portrait of his wife on the wall. "You look exactly as I remember you, Anna." He whispered aloud, his mind playing back to that fateful case. He had just gotten back from one of Reyer's opening nights, watching for the Phantom. He did not do this very often, but the case he was working on seemed to suggest that the Phantom was somehow leaving his theater to murder several young women. The victims' mothers all claimed that they had seen a masked figure following their daughters home from the opera, then disappearing with the fog. They were sure that it was this man that had killed their loved ones. So, Garnier had sat up all night, not seeing anything. He had gone back to his home, not expecting his wife to be up. He was therefore surprised to see a light on in his bedroom. He got to the door, and what he saw froze him with fear. A note was posted there. a note that Garnier had seen many times before. This was the same note that was left by the "Phantom" after he committed a murder. Garnier ran up stairs, finding his beloved Anna dead, her blood making the floor crimson. He had reeled in surprise, and he then heard a shrill whistle. The police had been called. The next few hours had been hell for Garnier. Deep voices from the abyss yelled at him. Where had he been? Was there anyone who would want his wife dead? What had he learned in his investigations? What scarred his heart more was when the police found the mad man, a man who believed he was a master cat burglar, and that was why he wore the mask. Anna had died for nothing. That was when Garnier had locked his Phantom information away, vowing never to look at it again. Garnier's eyes rested on the chest now, but he did not open it. There is bound to be a logical explanation to this. I have no need to open that Pandora's box. Garnier heard a knock on the door, realizing that he had fallen asleep in his chair, and it was already morning. He went to the door and saw the same small boy from the day before. "Monsieur! Monsieur! Disaster has struck! The police, they suspect Monsieur Reyer of kidnapping the prima donna!" "Why do they suspect Reyer now?" Garnier demanded, "Why did they not suspect him before?" "I do not know monsieur, I only barely managed to come here, as Monsieur Reyer told me to do; you must come with me!" Garnier did not hesitate; he stepped out of his door and quickly locked it. "Let us go!"  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
"Charles! Thank God Andre was able to get you! These police. they suspect me!" Reyer tried to run to his friend, but two burly policemen grabbed his arms. "Who is in charge here?" Garnier demanded, sending an icy glare at the two lower ranked officers. "I am, monsieur," an equally powerful voice answered. Garnier swerved his gaze to the left. The voice belonged to a tall, thin figure, dressed in the uniform that identified him as the Police Captain. Garnier's dark eyes met the green fireballs of the captain unflinchingly. "And you are?" "I, monsieur, am Captain Phillipe Gastone. I am here on official investigation, concerning the disappearance of both Madame Daniella and Bridgette Harrison. I have business here. but I do not believe you do, monsieur." "I am Charles Garnier, private investigator. Monsieur Reyer is my friend, and that is why I am here." Garnier retorted. His right eyebrow rose, "I was aware that Madame Daniella was missing. but I am not familiar with Bridgette Harrison. Has someone else gone missing?" "Ah, so you are obviously not involved in the investigation of the disappearances. I must ask, Monsieur Garnier, that you leave official business to the police, and not disturb us. We are taking Monsieur Reyer in for questioning; he will be released shortly." "I know of your interrogation methods, and I will not permit my friend to be dragged away like a common criminal! I must insist, Monsieur Gastone, that you treat Reyer with the utmost courtesy and respect." Garnier responded coldly. "Order your men to release him; I assure you, he will not run away." Captain Gastone appeared amused, "As you wish, monsieur. Let go of him," he ordered the guards, who did so. He turned back to Garnier, his amusement vanishing. "Monsieur, I am warning you now; stay out of business that does not concern you." Reyer spoke up, encouraged now that he was not under restraint. "Monsieur Gastone. Monsieur Garnier is here and now employed by me to investigate this matter. He is in my pay, and you can not stop him." This took Garnier off guard, but Gastone was imperturbable. "It will be recorded, Monsieur Reyer. Now, come with me." Garnier nodded, so Reyer followed the policemen out the door. Garnier was alone in the opera house, and he felt the familiar sensation of being watched. He spun around, searching for someone. No one was there. "This case gets more involved. and stranger by the moment. How I am going to solve it?" Garnier asked aloud. The only thing to answer him was silence.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Three hours later, Reyer was sitting in Garnier's den, sipping some wine to calm his nerves. "Charles. I apologize for pulling you into this. Now, you have no choice but to investigate." "Do not be absurd, Reyer, I would have eventually gotten in the way of the local law enforcement. It was better to get it done early in the game than later." Garnier responded, brushing his friend's apology aside. "However, I would appreciate it if you would fill me in on the missing data. Who is this Bridgette Harrison?" Reyer set his glass down, running his hands through his hair. "Bridgette Harrison is a member of our chorus, a very talented girl. With this second disappearance, the police have finally taken interest in the case. There can be no doubt now that the Phantom is behind all this." "Is there no other information you can give me?" Garnier snapped, impatient with his companion's speculation. "Not much, Charles. Bridgette was last seen at rehearsal yesterday afternoon. She made no mention of thinking of a trip, and it was her mother who reported her missing this morning. Bridgette had not come home, though members of the choir swore she was leaving in a hurry." Garnier began to pace, "Hm. this is bad. Two talented singers disappear without a trace. Poof!" His hands rose to accentuate his point. "Thankfully, however, no one has been murdered. yet." Reyer pointed out. He rose and clapped Garnier on the shoulder. "I believe, my friend, that you must finally open that chest of yours." Seeing Garnier's look of disbelief, he continued, "There may be something in there that will help prevent someone else's disappearance, and possibly save some lives." Garnier eyed his friend, and when he spoke, his voice was icy. "No. I will not open that chest, Reyer. I can not open it." Reyer nodded, "I understand. I thank you, Charles. The premier performance of The Marriage of Figaro is tomorrow. With all these strange occurrences, I am worried about the performance. Will you come and make sure everything goes smoothly?" Garnier nodded, and Reyer went to the door, leaving his friend to the misery of memories.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
"The turn out is more than I ever expected!" Reyer purred happily, ushering Garnier through the doors. Garnier could not help but agree. With the assistance of Captain Gastone, the amount of bad publicity from the press had been limited. However, though the prima donna would not be appearing, the crowd gathered was more than anticipated. Every seat was taken, with the exception of Box 5, which Reyer considered to be bad luck to have occupied. "Charles, I do not know where I am going to put you!" Reyer threw his hands into the air, as if asking for divine guidance. "The solution is simple, my dear Reyer, let me sit in Box 5." Reyer's eyes widened, "No, no Charles! I cannot be responsible for putting you in danger. You KNOW what will happen if you sit in Box 5!" Garnier grabbed his friend's arm, a thin smile appearing on his face. "Do not worry, Reyer. I do not think the Phantom will blame me for taking a seat there on this night of nights. I will be careful." Reyer chewed his fingernails, a habit that had developed when he had started putting productions on in a "haunted" opera house. "As you wish, Charles." Reyer left to help other guests find their seats, and Garnier shook his head, smiling at his friend's worry.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Garnier sat attentively, watching for any sign of trouble. The Marriage of Figaro was the opera house's continuation of their last opera, The Barber of Seville. The opera was about halfway over when Garnier began to feel restless. A man of action, sitting still listening to people sing, no matter how beautifully, was not Garnier's style. A cultured, but frosty voice sounded, sending tremors down Garnier's spine. "I beg your pardon sir, but I believe you are sitting in my seat." Garnier jumped slightly, forcing his voice to be neutral. "I was not aware this seat was taken, but there is plenty." He paused, seeing no one there. "Of room?" He rubbed his eyes, knowing he had not imagined the voice. Garnier turned back towards the stage, nervous by what had just happened. He heard a squeak, and thinking one of the singers had cracked a note, he studied the stage more intently. No one seemed fazed by the sound, but Garnier heard it again. Something was nagging in the back of his mind, something about Box 5. Reyer's voice echoed in his mind, but something else over rode it. Garnier knew the words, though he could not remember from where. Did I not instruct that Box 5 should be left empty? Garnier's eyes widened as he glanced fearfully at the chandelier. As he had suspected, the chandelier was shaking wildly, almost like a feather caught in a hurricane. Garnier leapt up, running down the stairs as fast as could, yelling all the way. "GET OFF THE STAGE! ALL OF YOU! GET OFF THE STAGE!" Many audience members looked at him like he was a madman, but there were some that saw the genuine fear in his eyes and helped him with his cries. Some of the closer ones even helped the singers and dancers off the stage. The chandelier continued to shake, but it did not appear to be falling. "Mademoiselle Chantene, she is back stage!" Garnier heard someone shout, and he ran without hesitation. He was relieved to see Chantene come from backstage, still in costume, accompanied by the singing director. "Mademoiselle. are you alright?" Chantene nodded, puzzlement in her eyes. "Of course. I was backstage practicing with Monsieur LeBlanc here. What is going on?" "The chandelier. it is going to fall!" Garnier exclaimed, trying to hurry the singer off the stage. Garnier glanced back up, and he was astonished to see the chandelier's shaking reduce. From where he stood, he watched as a single bat, still confused from its battle with the light, flew unsteadily away. Many of the audience members, seeing the disbelief on the detectives face, started to laugh. The whispering wind swirled around Garnier, and he felt his face turn red with embarrassment. "Monsieur Garnier, the chandelier appears quite stable." Chantene smiled. Garnier sighed in relief, glad that he had been wrong, but upset that his already tarnished reputation had shattered as easily as fragile crystal. "Mademoiselle Chantene," Garnier began, but froze. He saw a swishing shadow, almost like a cloak vanishing. Something needed to be said to the confused singer, and Garnier blurted out, "Thank heavens that you were not alone!" Before Chantene could ask, Garnier stormed off. Reyer caught Garnier on the way to the door. "Charles. where are you going?" Garnier looked at his friend, "To research into this matter further. It is time." Reyer was puzzled, "Time? Time for what?" Then, he realized. "Oh dear. do you need me?" Garnier shook his head, "No, thank you, Reyer. This is one demon I must face alone."  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Garnier sat in his favorite chair, contemplating the chest that sat before him. It was still unopened, and the key lay on the table. Garnier knew he must open the chest, for he needed the information inside. Surely Anna would not blame him for breaking his oath in this situation. He could not allow anyone else to be harmed, and with that thought giving him strength, he opened the chest. It was just as he remembered it. Almost like a child on Christmas morning, he carefully took out the many news articles and notes that were written in his own hand. Garnier recovered quickly from his mood, starting to search through the news articles, which were at the moment more important. Here, printed in black and white, were all the known facts regarding the opera house murders. Much of the data was "spiced" up to amuse the reader, and Garnier found only one paper that made actual mention of the Phantom. However, the paper was entitled Le Events Stupendous, a paper which Garnier knew was totally dedicated to the supernatural. Nothing found in this paper could be taken seriously; Garnier sighed, and he flung the paper aside. It fluttered to the floor, and the headline on the front page caught Garnier's eye. It read "Tunnel Found Behind Opera Singer's Mirror." "Upon further investigation, a tunnel leading to an underground labyrinth was behind the mirror located in the dressing room of Christine Daae, the famous opera singer. Due to the insistence of Monsieur Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny, Miss Daae's husband, our reporter was unable to explore the labyrinth further. Questioning the owners of the opera house did no good, for they deny the existence of both the labyrinth and this hidden passage." Something about this passage made it important to Garnier, and he sat back to think of what it was. As he read the article further, he saw that the newspaper speculated that the secret tunnel was used for the Phantom to gain access to his victims. A tingle of fear ran down Garnier's spine. "By God, that dressing room is still used today, first by Madame Daniella and now by Mademoiselle Chantene!" Garnier grabbed his coat, racing through the Parisian streets, praying that this at last would solve the mystery.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
"This is highly irregular, Charles." Reyer protested. "If the police found out that I was allowing you to search a possible crime scene." "You think that I would ruin evidence? Perish the thought, my dear Reyer," Garnier replied, amusement twinkling in his dark brown eyes. "The facts are there for the police if they care to find them. I only wish to see if this tunnel is real, and if so, where it leads to." Reyer nodded, unconvinced, but he placed the key into his friend's waiting hand. "I only repeat my earlier advice, please be careful." "I always am," Garnier replied, hurrying to the back of the stage. He stopped a prop boy, asking. "Which of these rooms is used by Mademoiselle Chantene?" The prop boy pointed, "The third one to the left sir. However, I would not go in there, monsieur." "And why not?" Garnier asked, eyeing the youth carefully. "Well, Mademoiselle Chantene went in there right after the show, monsieur, almost three hours ago. When I went to check on her, the door was locked. I knocked on the door and got no reply. I believe she has fallen asleep in there." Garnier's throat tightened, and he mumbled his thanks, proceeding against the boy's instructions to the prima donna's dressing room. He tried the door, finding it locked as the prop boy had said. "Mademoiselle Chantene? It is I, Garnier. Would you please open the door?" When there was no answer, Garnier felt the icy sensation of fear run through his veins, and he used the key to open the door. He found no one inside, but a note resting near the mirror. Garnier grabbed it, certain that the note had lead Chantene to her fate, and was surprised to see that it was addressed to him  
  
Monsieur Garnier, I must say that I am very disappointed as to your performance so far. I was sure that a detective of your caliber would go about his investigation much more carefully than you have done. Taking my seat in Box 5, where you undoubtedly expected to be able to view the stage so as to make sure no harm befell the singers, was not the most intelligent of moves, but highly predictable. I must say, for a man as open-minded as yourself, you have very little imagination. As for the falling of the chandelier, surely you did not expect me to give repeat performances? Please sir, give me a little more credit than that. I give you my word as a gentleman, monsieur, that the three missing ladies are unharmed and in the best of health. I feel no obligation to explain myself to you, other than to say that I have committed no crime. I realize that Monsieur Reyer has hired you to find his missing actresses, and I wish you the best of luck in your task. ?I warned you before Monsieur Reyer spoke to you not to enter into this case, but because you intend to do so now; I encourage you to continue your investigation?, as it is providing me with more amusement than I have had in a long time.  
  
Your obedient friend, O.G.  
  
This note shocked Garnier, who knew that it would do no good now to investigate the tunnel. The trail was stone cold, and Garnier started to pocket the note. He was sure that if Captain Gastone found out, he would not approve, but this did not bother Garnier. The Phantom had now made the case more personal, and Garnier was not about to. "I would not do that if I were you, Monsieur Garnier," a cold voice called from behind him, and Garnier swerved around to see both Captain Gastone and Reyer. "Greetings Captain," Garnier answered, just as coolly, unfolding the note once more. "This note is addressed to me, and I see no reason why you should be allowed to read it." "I am an official officer of the law, monsieur, it is my business to research anything found that might be involved with a case." Gastone held out his hand, waiting for Garnier to give him the note. Garnier did not budge. "May I ask Monsieur Gastone, how you knew I was here?" "I told him, Charles," Reyer explained, his eyes cast quietly to the ground. "He told me he had new information bearing on the case." Garnier spoke, but it was directed to the captain. "You enjoy reading Le Events Stupendous? It is not a paper I would associate with you." Gastone shrugged, "It has its moments. Now, I must insist that you let me see the note." Garnier handed it to him, and Gastone's bright green eyes inspected the writing. "Ah, the situation is worse than I thought!" "What do you mean, Captain?" Reyer demanded. Gastone handed the note back to Garnier, turning to face the owner of the opera house. "I expected to find a ransom note of some kind now, but instead we have this. Obviously, someone has read about Monsieur Garnier's interest in Phantom cases, and has now used it to disguise himself. We are either dealing with a very intelligent kidnapper, or a very mad one." "How can you be so sure it is not the true Phantom of the Opera?" Garnier challenged, his almost black eyes flashing. "I am sure because a true Phantom does not exist," Gastone replied, "The man who first called himself the Phantom of the Opera is no longer here, monsieur, but then again he never was. If I were you, I would focus on this present danger, instead of worrying about the past." "You investigate the way you wish, Captain. and allow me to investigate the way I wish." Garnier's tone was mocking, and he turned to Reyer. "I have heard the Phantom of the Opera, up in Box 5. I have been left this note, ?but it is not the first I have received?. The Phantom has challenged me, and by God I swear I will meet this challenge." "You do that, Monsieur Garnier. but do it on your own." Captain Gastone smiled, "As of now, you are not allowed near this or any other crime scene. The law recognizes the right of Monsieur Reyer to hire a private detective if he wishes, but only until you interfere with the official police. You have done so, and I must ask you to leave the investigation to us." Garnier froze, and he fixed a cold gaze upon Gastone. "As you wish, Captain. I only hope that you will not regret your decision later on. Farewell Captain, Reyer." Garnier strode out, his back straight and his head held high, heading home to see if anymore hope could be found from his Pandora's box.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Garnier flipped through his notes, not finding anything of interest or value. He wondered how long he had been searching for information, but he was so tired that he was sure he had been up all night. He began to look through his newspapers, finding an obituary page among them. Garnier searched through it, wondering why he had kept a page filled with deaths. The only obituary he had ever kept was the one that belonged to his beloved Anna, and that was kept behind the painted portrait of his wife. Garnier read down the column, suddenly understanding why he had kept it. There was the obituary of a Miss Christine Daae, the famous opera singer. She had died of a strange and sudden illness, and was buried by her husband in the St. Augustine Cemetery. A slow, cold realization came over Garnier, making his stomach quake. Suddenly, a huge crash sounded from the dining room. Garnier slowly stood, and he walked out into the hall with leaden steps. The room was completely destroyed and another note was attached to Anna's picture, which had been shredded with a knife.  
  
~o~o~o~  
  
Though only three years old, the burial ground looked as if it had been there a century. Tombstones were cracked or totally destroyed. The graves were overgrown with weeds, which seemed to suffocate the standing tombstones. Garnier walked further into the graveyard, and one grave stopped him. This grave alone was not overgrown with weeds; its headstone was perfect, standing strait and polished. A bouquet of fresh red roses stood as the lone flowers, and the name was perfectly readable, even to Garnier's hand lamp. "Yes Monsieur Garnier, that is Christine Daae's grave." A familiar voice called, answering Garnier's unspoken question. "A talented girl she was too, I alone appear to tend her grave now." "You loved her very much, did you not, monsieur?" Garnier spoke, turning to face his unseen companion. The light fell upon a figure, which Garnier could tell was a man, but beyond that the detective could see nothing. "Ah, my manners! Allow me, monsieur, to provide a little illumination." The silhouette snapped his fingers, and the graveyard was suddenly filled with light. Garnier gasped, astounded by what had just happened, but the man only laughed. "A little invention of mine, Monsieur Garnier. I have not thought of a name quite yet, but I think electricity has a nice ring to it." Garnier nodded, looking for the first time at a man he had spent a lifetime searching for. Wearing what looked like a tuxedo to Garnier, two things stood out to make it unique to the wearer. The first was a long black cape, lined along the inside in red, and the second was the figure's white mask. "The Phantom of the Opera, I presume?" The Phantom bowed, his grey eyes lighting with pleasure. "Indeed sir, I do not deny it. I must ask, monsieur, what made you suspect that the labyrinth ended up here?" Garnier shook his head, "You do me too much honor, monsieur. I only suspected that you would be here because of Miss Christine Daae. Now, I must ask you a question," Garnier's voice became commanding, and his gaze was frigid. "Why did you kidnap Madame Daniella, and Mademoiselles Chantene and Bridgette?" The Phantom smiled, a grin that Garnier could not help but feel was friendly. "I do not usually justify my actions to anyone, monsieur, but since you have come this far, you may as well know. I am not immortal, though the deformity that causes me to wear this mask makes me unusually long-lived. I felt that I needed a companion, an apprentice if you will. In this apprentice I would leave the best of my accomplishments. I had found someone for every type of science I have studied, and all that was left was to find someone with whom I could leave my music. I had long ago left the opera house, but I knew then that I needed to return. I watched for weeks, deciding finally to chose from the three candidates you claim I have kidnapped. I submit, Monsieur Garnier, that I am only responsible for giving one of them the chance of a lifetime by allowing them to learn my music." "Why did you not simply ask the ladies? Why did you go about things outside of the law, instead of within it?" Garnier demanded. The Phantom smiled again, but this time Garnier could see that the smile was one of pain, and when the Phantom spoke, his voice was bitter. "Unfortunately, I could not do as you suggest. The same deformity, which causes me to live such a long life, has also cursed me to be shunned by my fellow man. The only way to contact and to see which lady best suited my needs was to bring them to me." Garnier nodded, and when he spoke his voice carefully controlled to hid his emotions. "So, you do not intend to let the ladies go?" "Not until they have served their purpose," The Phantom agreed, his voice equally controlled. Garnier looked up, his brown eyes hardening. "I congratulate you on a most excellent crime." The Phantom's face was expressionless, but his grey eyes were like flint. "And I congratulate you on a most excellent investigation." No more words were spoken between them, and both the detective and the criminal leapt for each other. The Phantom quickly took the advantage, grabbing Garnier by his coat and lifting him into the air. Garnier's response was to grab his opponent's mask, and yank it off, bearing to Garnier's eyes alone the true identity of his rival. 


End file.
